Viking Bottoms

Jamie and I were tired. It required all of our energy just to put fork to plate to mouth. As a result, we involuntarily let the children rule the table. The conversation spiraled at an alarming rate. Bathroom jokes, rude noises, selfish boasts. It was getting ugly. We snapped to. Energy or not, some things -- dinner conversation among them -- require daily guidance and training. They can't be allowed to run rampant.

Jamie and I eyed each other and took the reins once again. "I know!" I suggested. "Let's all share something new we learned today. We'll start with the youngest." Avery's eye gleamed, and each child squirmed eagerly for his or her turn. The lively banter continued, still focusing on and honoring the children, but strategically guided by the parents.

We were quite entertained by Avery's retelling of our history lesson. She had been very much impressed when learning that Viking boats had flat bottoms. (The word "bottom" is irresistible to this wayward child.) Aidan snickered, but added the reasons as to why this feature was advantageous to the Norsemen. Drew and Bethie, in turn, shared the details that stood out vividly in their minds, and we were all soon engaged in an animated discussion about this chapter in history.

We've had this insipid banter problem arise many times in the past. Jamie's solution is frequently a "Question of the Day." Someone comes up with a question for everyone to answer, such as, "If you could go anywhere in the world . . . " or "If you could meet someone from the past . . . ." Again, the conversation is always very lively, but because it is guided by the parent, the words are uplifting and mind-enriching.

Although it can be draining and just one more task in my long day, I know it's so worth it for me to keep a level head at the dinner table. It's an ideal opportunity to help my children practice life skills such as patiently listening to one another, asking thoughtful questions, and sharing wholesome pieces of information. Well, wholesome most of the time. I suppose there's always a chance we'll encounter those Viking bottoms again. Especially if Miss Kate has the floor.

It's Probably a Good Idea

If I could hire a maid to do just one of my jobs, I would immediately usher her into the laundry room. It's not so much the sorting I mind (especially since the kids are starting to get the hang of it), and I certainly don't have trouble cramming stuff into the washing machine and then transferring it to the dryer.

But the minute the dryer signal sounds, that load is doomed. Sometimes it makes it into a basket, where it quietly resides until the basket is overturned by the child who needs to use it as a crib for her dolly. Sometimes the load makes it to the couch, providing extra padding during family movie night. Sometimes I exaggerate just a tad. But you get the idea. Laundry is not my favorite.

I've tried many systems, such as attempting to do all of the laundry in one day (epic fail) or tackling just one load per day (we go through too many loads for that to work). I've come up with a new plan, and I think it's probably a good idea. It worked really well for a while, and then I got sick. (I don't think the two were related.) I still think it's a good idea.

Here's the plan: Two a day, then put 'em away.

I realized that we're much more likely to fold a basket of laundry that is just moderately full -- it's not so daunting. Compared with that towering mound of whites? Oh, it makes my stomach churn just to think of it. So I'm trying to do two loads a day, even if the load isn't quite full.

I've also calmly explained the situation to the dear peeps: Mama needs your help!!! Today during our afternoon reading, for example, they folded and put away their laundry. It was extremely helpful, and it's a system that is becoming more and more efficient the older they get. Drew and Bethie also sort the kids' dirty laundry. They have a hamper that is divided into two sections, so the lights and darks are already separated. Their job is to make sure the jeans aren't wadded into balls and the pockets aren't full of LEGOS and pennies.

This is what the week boils down to:

Monday: Two loads of kid laundry (darks)
Tuesday: One kid load (light), one parent load (darks)
Wednesday: Two parent loads (delicates, whites)
Thursday: Two loads of linens (towels, napkins, dish rags, etc.)
Friday: Two loads of kid sheets/blankets (alternate boys/girls each week)
Saturday: Two loads of whatever is left (our sheets, cleaning rags, etc.)


Being caught up on laundry is especially helpful on unexpected snow days . . .

The kids are being trained to fold and put away their own laundry. (Drew and Bethie have it down. The others are still working at it. I am ever hopeful.) Every Monday morning I also have them do a quick drawer tidy-up in their rooms so it's easier for them to put in the fresh laundry as it's ready. They also help round up towels, bedding, napkins and other linens as necessary to keep that machine hummin' all week.

Their diligence helps me stay on task, too. Surely I can handle putting away Daddy's and my laundry. Right? (Cue the chirping cricket.) Of course I can handle it. I just need to do it.



The goal is to wake up Sunday morning with an empty washing machine, an empty dryer, two empty baskets -- and an empty couch. And now if you'll excuse me, I have some laundry to fold.

Winter Menu

I know you probably don't want to read a post that has the word "winter" in the title. I'm sorry if I've scared you away -- but don't worry. It's more about the "menu" than the "winter." It just had a nice ring to it.

I also don't want to mislead you with the whole food idea. This is not a food blog -- that is my amazing sister's area of expertise. But I like to organize things. Including food. So here it goes.

I've finally discovered a menu plan that is working well for our family of six. I thought I'd pass it along to any other frazzled kitchen mamas out there who are tired of resorting to cold cereal for dinner (not that there's anything wrong with that . . . ).

Here's the plan:

I schedule three meals for the week. The first is soup (which I double), such as this super-yummy Ham and Potato Soup, this delicious Italian Sausage Soup or this scrumptious Chicken Tortilla Soup. We have it for dinner on Monday and then for lunch during the rest of the week. I can't believe how much time is saved at lunch! I set out the crockpot after breakfast, add Monday's soup, and by noon our lunch is ready. No prep and no scorched pots from failed reheating. It's heavenly.

On Tuesday I double a sandwich-ey or taco-ey type recipe so that on Wednesday (which is our crazy day) Drew has something quick to grab before heading out to youth group and I don't have to worry about pulling together a full dinner. Sometimes I'll begin with a roast on Tuesday (this one was amazing) and then it morphs into French dip on Wednesday (with tater tots, of course. We in the Lawson home are quite fond of tater tots. I tell you I was in raptures when Trader Joe's started to carry them.) This BBQ Pork sandwich recipe is also dee-lish.

That leaves Thursday and Friday. This is where I put the casserole dishes that take a bit more prep time, since my Thursdays are less hectic. So the lasagna, chicken tetrazzini, spaghetti, or meatloaf might end up on the menu toward the end of the week. Most of the recipes are doubled, leaving plenty of leftovers for the weekend. Sometimes that means a few of us have the spaghetti and the others might have the meatloaf, but nothing is wasted and I've found that doubling three recipes is usually more economical than adding a fourth.

I keep a master of family favorites on the computer so that when it comes time to make my menu I can easily pull from the list. Knowing what's for dinner eases up the day considerably. It's happy for the kids, it's happy for the daddy, and it's super happy for the mama. Because we all know that as soon as those lunch dishes are put away, someone is immediately going to ask, "Mommy? What's for dinner?!"


"One of the Family" by Frederich Cotman, 1880

{Begin with a Smile}

We started up our normal school schedule this week. It's always a bit tricky to get back into the groove after a long break, so I made it a point to have a special breakfast ready on Monday morning.

As we gathered around hot, syrupy French toast, I could still sense that some people were not quite chipper yet. Oddly enough, the Lord had already given me two diverting experiences that morning that I knew would surely bring a smile to some peoples' faces. So I shared.

"Guess what two silly things your mother did this morning?" Eyes widened in expectation. "I ran outside in my pajamas while it was still dark, and I cracked an egg between my knees!"

This got exactly the response I was hoping for. Now mind you, these were two separate occurrences. I did not crack an egg between my knees while running through the streets in my pajamas. But for the purposes of bringing a smile to some people, I chose to give only the details that were rather ludicrous. It worked.

I then explained that I had realized early that morning that we had forgotten to take down the trash. Hence my Wee Willie Winkie dash. And later, while making French toast, an egg slipped from my hands. My instinct, of course, was to try and catch it. With my knees.

After breakfast, I furthered the merry theme by introducing a "smile envelope" in hopes of keeping that perk in our morning. As soon as a child worked through his morning lessons, he got to take a secret peek into the "A Smile for You" envelope. Contained was something guaranteed to make them smile. Such as this:



Now, doesn't that make you smile?


I think Avery was about three when we took this picture. She wanted to play "baby," so I wadded her up. This was the creepy result.

The Lavender Lullaby -- It Works!

When Drew was a newborn, my friend Mary introduced me to infant massage. She held a class for those interested, and while most students brought a doll to "massage," I got to bring my new baby boy. As I practiced the techniques at home, this shared time with my son turned into a very tender, special routine. My boy grew and wiggled and eventually toddled away, and the massages went by the wayside. The practice was revived briefly with Bethie upon her arrival, and I probably gave Aidan a token rub or two. I'm drawing a complete blank when it comes to Little Miss Avery Kate. That's how it is.

A few years slipped by, and I found myself frustrated with the bedtime routine in our home. I wanted it to be a calm, peaceful hour, but it was more often a frazzled, whining mess. Not at all conducive to pleasant dreams. I stumbled upon the idea of spraying a light, fragrant mist on the kids' pillows (I think this was my sister's suggestion), in hopes of adding a calming element to the evening. It worked for a while, and then we moved, the mist was misplaced, and I forgot about it. (Have you detected a pattern here? I have a terrible memory.)

Recently, Little Miss Avery Kate has struggled at bedtime. I recalled the fragrant spray idea, but all I could find in the house was my perfume. I lightly misted her pillow for several nights, and she enjoyed the sensation that mama was right there with her. It didn't take long for me to realize, however, that this would end up being a rather costly way to scent the pillow of a five-year-old.

A few weeks ago, as I scanned the aisles at Trader Joe's, I noticed that they carry lavender oil. When I saw that it came in a spray bottle, I figured that I just might have stumbled upon the perfect solution.

I brought the oil home, and that night told Miss Kate that I had a special treat for her. Because it was an oil and not just a fragrance, I figured that I probably shouldn't squirt it all over the place. And then I remembered the infant massage. Avery's "special treat" evolved into a cozy, lavender back massage. We chatted, prayed and giggled. She felt my touch, heard my voice. And we knew we had discovered a beautiful new evening ritual.

Before long, the back massage wasn't enough. It became necessary to include the arms, legs, tummy and face as well. Word got out, and soon Aidan was begging for the special treatment. So I made my rounds, rubbing little backs, whispering gentle prayers. Bethie jumped on the bandwagon, and finally Drew hinted, "Maybe you could do my back?"

My heart found delight in discovering something so simple (we're talking five minutes here, folks) that spoke volumes to my children. I marveled over how special this time was for each of them, and then I realized why it worked so well for their varied personalities.

Do you remember the love languages that Dr. Gary Chapman wrote about several years ago? Basically, he states that we express and respond to love in five different ways. Most people fall primarily into one category or a combination of the following: words of affirmation, quality time, receiving gifts, acts of service, and physical touch.

My children represent each one of these "languages" in their own unique ways. And this simple little lavender rub happens to fall into each category -- physical touch is obvious. But also the time I spend with each one, the gift of the massage, the service of working out little tension spots in a child's back, and the affirming words spoken as we spend time together. So no matter how they respond to love, they are sure to feel that their mama cares very deeply about them.

Bedtime is slowly but surely transitioning into a more peaceful hour around here. I've definitely noticed a difference in the younger two. They are more inclined to stay in bed and tend to fall asleep more easily, too. This is especially the case when we have a calm, predictable routine involving a decent bedtime, a story or two, prayer, and plenty of hugs and kisses. And knowing that they can now have a longer massage if they're in their beds on time? Well, it works!

Illustration by Jessie Willcox Smith 1908

The Five Minute Timer -- It Works!

As a young bride, I had visions of keeping a perfect home for my family. Naturally, my goals began in the kitchen. The smell of freshly baked bread would always pervade this sanctuary. The sink would be scoured on a regular basis, the floor would be so clean that a child could scoot and toddle without the slightest smudge appearing on the knees or (perfectly white) socks. Pies with golden crusts would emerge from a remarkably shiny oven, and I would greet my husband at the door each evening with a fresh smile, starched apron and a perfectly timed dinner.

(Excuse me for a moment -- I'm snickering at my blissfully ignorant young self right now.)

So anyway, that's what I envisioned. I quickly realized, however, that simply donning the apron would not do the trick. It involved work. Lots of it. My first indication that I was not cut out for the Perfect Homemaker Award was when I realized that I couldn't even stand to unload the dishwasher. I'd come out in the morning, see that fateful green light, and shrink back in horror. All those dishes. Waiting. Just waiting. And I'd quickly turn around and find something else to do. Eventually those dishes got unloaded, but certainly not in a timely fashion.

One day, it occurred to me that I should just buckle down and do it. After all, it probably wouldn't take a super long time. I glanced at the clock, opened the dishwasher door and went at it with a vengeance. After the last glass had disappeared behind the cupboard door, I looked again at the clock. Huh. It only took five minutes. I started to laugh at myself. Five minutes? I've been running away from a green light and it could have been conquered in five minutes?

That five minute dishwasher challenge changed my approach to housekeeping. I realized that it was silly for me to dread a five minute task. In fact, I actually started to enjoy unloading the dishwasher. To think -- dishes neatly tucked away in just a few minutes! What an accomplishment! I vividly remember thinking, "Wow -- I used to dread this, but now I kind of like it. Maybe that's partly how we mature. I wonder what kinds of tasks I'll be embracing when I'm all grown up!"

And it got me excited to think about how many other five minute tasks were out there to be tackled. So I started to pay attention to the clock. Changing the sheets? Five minutes. Scouring the sink? Five. Toilet? Yep -- five.

Sometimes I'd divide larger tasks into smaller five minute tasks to make them feel more manageable, too. Cleaning the entire bathroom takes some time, but when I remind myself that the toilet can be done in five, and likewise the sink, then it's not nearly so bad.

I haven't yet figured out how to make bread in five minutes (although the bread machine certainly cuts back on labor), and it will take a miracle for me to enjoy scrubbing the shower. But finding little ways to ease the load can make a mama's work that much more rewarding. What five minute task might you seize today?

{The Dinner Helper -- It Works!}

Every once in a while I stumble upon an idea that helps me maintain that home rhythm that we moms so desperately try to cultivate. My most recent breakthrough is "The Dinner Helper."

First, though, some background. For several years I've used the "helper" system after learning about it from my friend, Darlene. Each child is assigned a day until all the days are taken. (Drew takes Monday and Thursday, Bethie has Tuesday and Friday, while Aidan has Wednesday and Saturday. Little Miss Avery Kate still resides loftily over the Sunday slot. No one has commented yet on the unfairness of this.)

On the child's "day," he is given all of the miscellaneous responsibilities that come up, such as setting the table for dinner or taking out the trash. Not only does this child have the day's responsibilities, however. They are also blessed with the simple privileges that brighten a kid's day, such as choosing the radio station in the car, running an errand with Dad or eating from . . . The Orange Plate. (Hey -- The Orange Plate is a coveted item in our home!).

So anyway, we've used this system successfully for a number of years and tailored it as the kids have gotten older. One of the helper duties we've always used is dinner detail. I was finding, however, that the "helping" wasn't necessarily always . . . helpful. Dinnertime is somewhat frenzied anyway -- pulling together last minute ingredients, fielding questions from the other room, feeling tired and hungry, etc. So I felt even more frazzled when I had to list off all of the things I needed my helper to do. I can multitask, but I'm not Wonder Woman. (I used to think I was, though. You see, my sister and I had these awesome Underoos . . . .)

Instead of freaking out, desperate Normal Woman devised a new plan. I call it, The Dinner Helper Checklist.

This really works, folks! I have posted a chart on the fridge with a very detailed list of Dinner Helper tasks. My helper walks up to the chart, reads what they need to do and they do it. While they're setting the table, I can focus on the soup or the muffins or the salad. I don't need to think or shout out orders. Our responsibilities merge so nicely that dinner gets to the table in a much more pleasant and efficient manner.

Here's a peek at our list:

1. Clear off the table.
2. Fill 6 glasses with fresh water.
3. Make sure each chair has a napkin.*
4. Place 6 forks/spoons at each seat.
5. Ask Mom about condiments.**
6. Help Mom bring plates to the table.
7. Ring the dinner bell!

*I use cloth napkins that the kids can tie around the chair rails.
**This includes all the extras, like salad dressing, sour cream, Parmesan cheese, etc.

I've noticed that giving specific details really helps. (I'm not sure why they have a hard time remembering that there are six of us, but Jamie and I actually get water now that I've posted the number.) I'm thinking I'll also post a diagram of a place setting so they remember where everything goes.


Emily Post's Basic Place Setting

The older ones often help with actual dinner prep, too, which is a lifesaver. Everyone's favorite part, of course, is number seven: ringing the bell.

After dinner, my helper looks at the second list. (All family members are supposed to clear their own place settings, but I've included that as number one in case someone forgets or gets sidetracked. Someone like, oh, say, Little Miss Avery Kate. Or . . . Mom. Yes, it happens.)

1. Clear away plates and utensils.
2. Clear away and rinse glasses.***
3. Put lids on condiments, condiments in fridge.
4. Tie napkins on chairs.
5. Wipe table with dishcloth.
6. Sweep the floor.
7. Push in chairs.

***We keep the kids' glasses in a row on the counter during the day to cut back on extra dishes. They use various jars, all different heights, so they know that the tallest is Drew's and the shortest is Avery's. After meals I ask them to rinse their glasses and put them back on the counter. I pop them into the dishwasher after everyone's in bed.

I've found that not only does this system help my children contribute to the family and develop responsibility, but it also keeps me on track. If they're on number six and ready to bring food to the table, my goal is to have the plates dished up and ready to pass off by that point. It also gives me a sense of shared accomplishment and camaraderie with my child. We can look together at our work and say, "Hey! We did it!"